Chapter 76 - A Visit to the Grave After the Rain
The light rain that had fallen since dawn stopped just before noon.
Northeast of the royal capital, beyond the church, lay an expansive cemetery surrounded by green trees and gray brick walls.
When people living in the royal capital passed away, both nobles and commoners were mostly buried here.
The cemetery was managed by the church, but one didn’t need to be a believer to be buried there. The communal burial area was nearly free of charge, a measure to prevent infections from the deceased and to keep them from turning into undead, or so it was said.
Dahlia stepped off the carriage onto the slightly slippery cobblestones, damp from the rain.
Volf had insisted on carrying everything except for the bouquets, claiming his shoes wouldn’t slip.
That day, Volf was dressed in his black knight’s uniform and wore the fairy crystal glasses. A sword wrapped in dark blue cloth rested on his back, and in his hands, he carried two packages containing wine and glasses.
In Dahlia’s hands were just two small bouquets, one white and one red.
The night before, as they were parting, Volf had asked Dahlia about her plans for the next day.
When Dahlia mentioned visiting her father’s grave, Volf had said that it was close to his mother’s death anniversary and he had reserved flowers as well.
Though she initially hesitated when he offered to arrange for a carriage, both of them had to go to the Merchant Guild that afternoon, so she eventually agreed.
The entrance to the cemetery, marked by a tall white gate, was where they would part ways. Beyond the gate, the paths diverged—left for the nobles’ area, and right for the commoners’ area.
The Scalfarotto family grave was naturally in the nobles’ section. While Dahlia’s grandfather and father had been honorary barons, their grave was in the commoners’ section.
"Volf, this is where we part. My family’s grave is in this area."
As Dahlia spoke and reached out to take her belongings, the young man turned his toes toward the path leading to the commoners’ area.
"I’ll go with you. I’ll pay my respects at your family’s grave first, and then visit my family’s grave afterward."
"Huh?"
Dahlia froze in shock and then averted her eyes from Volf.
"Dahlia, is something wrong?"
"Um... Among commoners, only lovers who have promised their future or fiancés/fiancées visit each other’s family graves. Also, praying together alternately at both graves is something only engaged or married couples do... If you say something like that, it might cause a misunderstanding..."
"I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Truly..."
"It’s fine! I won’t misunderstand!"
"...I see."
Dahlia blurted out her reassurance with unusual intensity, while Volf oddly gazed off into the distance.
This awkward atmosphere was likely due to the differences between noble and commoner customs, a high wall that separated the two.
Despite the discomfort, they agreed to meet again at the carriage stop and went their separate ways down the left and right paths.
・・・・・・・
The Scalfarotto family grave was located at the edge of the nobles’ section.
Originally a viscount’s family, their grave wasn’t particularly large. Even so, the prayer area, slightly elevated by six stone steps, was far more spacious than anything in the commoners’ section.
As he approached, two pristine white pillar-shaped gravestones stood side by side.
In front of the gravestones, a fresh bouquet of lilies lay damp from the rain. Next to it, Volf placed the white bouquet he had brought. On the low table before the grave, he set down a handkerchief and glasses, then gently poured white wine into them.
Removing his glasses, he activated an anti-evesdropper.
Until now, he had never spoken to the grave. But today, he felt like talking, even if just a little.
"Mother... I spoke with Brother Guido. I also learned that Father has been coming here. I was too childish."
He had selfishly believed that no one else grieved for his mother, that he was the only one suffering.
He had kept others at a distance to avoid getting hurt and had run away from anything troublesome.
Even though he was already an adult, he had lived as though he hadn’t changed since that day.
But he had decided to stop being a child and running away.
Last night, while Dahlia spoke in a calm and steady manner, her eyes betrayed the deep hurt she was feeling.
He had thought that she was strong, but Dahlia had shown a slight vulnerability and fear. It was something he didn’t want anyone else to see.
"I have found a friend I want to protect."
The words fell like the first drops of rain.
"She made magical tools to protect me. Someday, she might even make an extraordinary magic sword. Though I keep causing her trouble, I want to become someone who can protect her. And to do that, I must surpass you, Mother..."
When he was a child, his mother had once asked him during sword training:
"What kind of knight do you want to be, Volf?"
At the time, he thought she was referring to fighting styles—offensive or defensive, strength-focused or speed-focused.
But now, he wondered if that wasn’t what she truly meant.
"It’s late, but here’s my answer to 'what kind of knight I want to be.' I aim to be someone 'who can protect those I want to protect.' It may be an unacceptable answer for a knight, but that is my wish."
The sword wrapped in navy-blue cloth that he had brought with him was the very one his mother had wielded that day.
Its blade had broken and become battered, but it had been carefully repaired and stored in her weapons room.
Without unwrapping the cloth, he approached the grave, holding it up with both hands.
There was a tale that knights who died protecting someone would, after death, grant protection to the living they loved.
Whether it was just a legend unique to this country or a consolation for those left behind by knights, he didn’t know.
But if it were true, he had only one wish.
"I can fight for myself. If it is possible, grant that protection not to me, but to my friend, Dahlia."
Volf closed his golden eyes and prayed deeply for a long time.
・・・・・・・
At the end of the path, the rain-washed cylindrical gravestones glistened as if they were newly made.
Dahlia stopped her steps among the rows of gray gravestones that all looked alike.
The small grave where her grandparents and father rested stood there. The cylindrical stone was just the size of a circle she could form with both hands.
Someone must have come to pray. A small bottle of her father’s favorite alcohol had been placed before the grave.
In the royal capital, cremation was almost universal, and the ashes, reduced to powder, were returned to the earth beneath the gravestones.
The day after she entrusted her father’s casket to the church, she had received a small amount of pure white ash, about the size of her palm, from the priest.
She placed it in a glass box, slid the thin stone slab at the grave, and carefully scattered the ashes below.
She still remembered how lost she had felt as the faintly swirling ash was carried away by the wind.
It had been a month and a half since she last visited the grave.
Originally, she had intended to come here with Tobias on the day they submitted their marriage registration.
But after their engagement was broken off, she made a new friend, established her company, and visited the royal castle. Her days had been anything but peaceful.
She placed the bouquet of red flowers before the grave, poured the red wine she had brought into two glasses, and set one down on the grave.
She held the other herself, gently clinking them together.
"Father, things with Tobias are over now, but if you were watching, you wouldn’t be angry, right?"
Though Tobias deserved to be scolded more, she felt her father would simply laugh and say, "It was for the best."
"I didn’t know that making people owe you 'favors' was your hobby. Gabriella, Viscount Jedda, and Oswald-san... and maybe there are still others."
The vice guildmaster of the Merchant Guild, the owner of the magical tool shop The Goddess’ Right Eye.
She never dreamed that her father had made favors with such people and entrusted his daughter’s future to them.
"For someone who was always so careless and easygoing, doing something this cool behind the scenes is unfair."
She couldn’t help but pout toward the gravestone.
She could almost hear her father’s amused voice saying, "Dahlia, don't bring someone down just to lift them up again."
"But... while I’m grateful you cared so much, I can’t stay like this. Otherwise, I’ll always be your 'inexperienced' and 'worrisome daughter,' won’t I?"
As a magical toolmaker, she had always thought she could never surpass her father.
She thought it was fine to simply follow behind him forever; to walk behind her father, behind her fiancé, and live out her days peacefully until her death.
Perhaps it was because, in her previous life, she had died from overwork and faced the end alone, consumed by loneliness and fear.
But since the day she resolved not to look down after the broken engagement, many things had changed.
She still loved her father dearly.
After he passed away, she had come to realize how much he had cared for her and cherished her.
As a daughter and as a magical toolmaker, she was deeply grateful for the way he had nurtured her.
But she couldn’t keep following behind him forever.
She was scared, uncertain, and hesitant.
Even so, unless she chose her own path and walked it herself, she would never become a complete adult.
And if she didn’t, her father would never be able to rest in peace.
"My magic and skills are still lacking, and I don’t know how many decades it will take, but even so..."
Raising her gaze to the grave, she declared in a firm voice:
"I want to become a magical toolmaker who surpasses you, Dad."
When she remembered her father’s broad back and the strong, rainbow-colored magic that overflowed from his fingertips, she couldn’t help but feel it was an impossible dream.
Her ideas, shaped by her previous life, had earned her recognition, but her skills were still far from reaching her father’s level.
Even so, as long as she was alive, she thought it wasn’t a bad goal to strive for.
So she chose to believe she could do it.
Her father would have likely said, "Don’t say you want to become one—say you will become one."
"I’ve made a precious friend who supports me. I’m not alone, so I’ll be okay."
Dahlia directed her brightest smile toward the grave.
She had Volf, a dear friend who wholeheartedly supported her as a magical toolmaker.
There were also Irma, Marcella, Ivano, Gabriella, Dominic, and many others who had stood by her.
Thanks to them, she had come this far without lowering her head or stopping in her tracks.
There had been plenty of commotions and problems, but she could now live her days smiling sincerely and looking forward.
That was why she no longer wanted her father to worry about her.
She was no longer her father’s "little Dahlia."
Even if she fell, she was sure she could stand up on her own.
"One day, I’ll become an incredible magical toolmaker... so look forward to it."
The wine glass she raised to the height of the gravestone reflected a seven-colored rainbow.
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